


Hey! Hey! You! You! I don't like your girlfriend...

by DrWholocked (Samilu)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, John Watson Returns to Baker Street, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Past Mary Morstan/John Watson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-28
Updated: 2014-03-28
Packaged: 2019-09-07 18:56:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16859524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samilu/pseuds/DrWholocked
Summary: Based onthis prompt by welcometojohnlockbut can you imagine how happy Sherlock will be after John moves back into 221b, he would be dancing around the flat and singing and just ugh





	Hey! Hey! You! You! I don't like your girlfriend...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [welcometojohnlock](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=welcometojohnlock).



> Migrating this from Tumblr because... well, we all know why.

Now that things were over with Mary, John couldn’t help but feel overwhelming relief to be moving back to Baker Street with Sherlock. As strange as it sounded, he never felt at home in his flat with Mary the way he did at 221b Baker Street.  
  
He packed what little he’d need for a few days, just wanting to be  _gone_ and have it  _done with_  and sit in his comfy returned-to-the-sitting-room armchair with a cup of tea and whatever version of Sherlock he found when he got there.  
  
Sherlock-on-a-case was all manic energy, disjointed sentences, rushing about and John pulled along in his wake.   
Sherlock-doing-experiments was still, quiet, but somehow vibrating with highly controlled energy all the same.   
Bored-Sherlock was the least predictable and was sometimes a sulking lump on the sofa, or a pacing maniac with a cigarette craving, or increasingly dramatic and unsafe experimentation – often on John, or at least on John’s reactions.  
  
When John finally trudged his way up the seventeen stairs to the flat, he could barely hear himself think over the blaring of Avril Lavigne singing about how much she doesn’t like someone’s girlfriend. He’d never known Sherlock to listen to anything like it. He assumed Mrs Hudson must be away, given the lack of her accosting him in the hallway begging him to make the noise stop.  
  
Nothing in John’s knowledge of Sherlock prepared him for the sight that greeted him upon opening the door.  
  
Sherlock had his back to John and he was singing along with the song, into what looked like a graduated cylinder like the ones from the stag night. He was gyrating, bouncing, jumping around the room, tossing his head and throwing his arms about. He was wearing one of his ubiquitous dressing gowns – John really didn’t want to know what, if anything, he was wearing under it.  
  
He deliberately let his overnight bag drop loudly onto the floor and Sherlock spun around at the noise. For the first time in John’s memory, Sherlock blushed  _and_ seemed utterly speechless. The usually poised—and never flustered—consulting detective literally threw himself at the stereo, shutting it off—possibly damaging it in his haste—and then stood looking at John, opening and closing his mouth like a fish.  
  
Options for how he might respond to what was clearly Sherlock celebrating his divorce flashed through John’s mind, until he settled on the one that might give him the most leverage for the longest possible time.  
  
“Guessing you didn’t like my wife much, after all?”  
  
“John…I”  
  
“Tea?”  
  
John turned and entered the kitchen, desperately trying to control the grin that soon broke out over his face.  
  
Oh yes, this was going to keep things interesting for a long  _long_ time.


End file.
